


The Snake and the Dragon (A Draco Malfoy Fanfiction)

by pottiehead101



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Angst and Humor, Attempt at Humor, Betrayal, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Book 6: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Comebacks, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Enemy Lovers, F/M, Funny, Good Slytherins, Insults, Love, Love Confessions, My First Fanfic, Romance, Sarcasm, Slytherin, Swearing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:44:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pottiehead101/pseuds/pottiehead101
Summary: Lia has always been different. Raised together with Harry Potter, she soon finds that her ancestry is unlike anything she could have ever expected. A power lies dormant in her blood, and perhaps with it, the key to ending Voldemort's devastation. Will you join Lia as she struggles to accept her budding love for the one she cannot have, and uncover the secrets buried in her past?





	1. Prologue

Disclaimer: The Harry Potter Universe and all characters (except OC's) belong to the talent J.K. Rowling.

A/N: For the purpose of this fanfiction, please pretend that Harry Potter and the Cursed Child does not exist.

Prologue:

" ... Please. It is all I ask of you."

The woman trembled as she slumped to her knees. Her head was bowed, a pair of slender white hands held together, under shivering lips, as if in prayer. A great burden seemingly weighed upon the frail shoulders, and it seemed to be only with great struggle that she was able to beseech the wizard. The tears splattered upon the dirt floor, water gliding down her sharp cheekbones, mingling with the sweat and grime already encrusted there.

Finally, with exertion, she stared up at the man with the half-moon spectacles - the man named Albus Dumbledore.

"He's coming," she said in a faint whisper. "He's coming." Her voice grew louder. She shuddered, like a thought too horrible to dwell on had crossed her mind. "Please. I beg you." Letting out a pained breath, the woman shut her lids for a brief moment.

Unable to sob no more, grim resolve gripped her. Her eyes wandered restlessly, until they fell and focused upon the tiny baby with the dark wisps of hair that lay in ignorant bliss on a tattered pram nearby.

"He senses her power." She shifted her gaze back to Dumbledore. "He wants her, now more than he's ever wanted anything."

"Is she?"

The glistening silver gathered in the corner of her eyes again. She nodded once. Bitterly. Forlornly. Even the small movement radiated out her guilt. It was the ceaseless, encumbering guilt of a mother who believed herself to have failed her child.

"It happened. The transfer's complete. She's been marked"

"Then everything we feared has come to pass."

"Now you see. Don't you? You must!" A frantic, almost mad glint took over her eyes. "You know why you have to protect her. It's imperative."

Dumbledore stepped away, moving towards the infant lying restlessly in the pram. As he peered over the tiny girl, molten gold eyes bore back at him. Even at only a year old, there seemed to be an intelligence, a mischief beyond her years hidden in those eyes. He could almost feel the magic rolling off her in soft undulating waves. But there was a darker hint to the purity of the child. He knew that the shadow was her father's mark.

Suddenly, a hand reached out. Tiny baby fingers latched onto his finger. He watched, in quiet wonder, as the cut on his hand slowly healed and closed over. The girl looked back at him, a gurgling laugh ringing in the air.

"It is too soon, Alyssia," he said, turning to the woman. "I know you wish to protect her, as any mother would, but you need to go back. The process is not yet complete. To finish it, is the only way she will ever be safe. The only way we will stand a chance at destroying him. The only way that he may ever recognise the error of his ways."

Alyssia grimaced. She had known that those words were coming. Of course, she had to do her duty. Of course, she had to let Daliah suffer first. Suffer so that when the storm had all but passed, she could have a chance at happiness, at a normal life.

There was no other way.

"I'm not afraid," she said suddenly. "Of death, I mean. You should know that. I welcome it. To be away. Away from all the … memories. The pain. The betrayal." A thousand years of despair filled her eyes.

"I would have died months ago, if not for her," she gestured towards the baby. "It is only for her that I seek you tonight. Just … just. Promise me. I want nothing else. I need nothing else. Promise me that when … when it's over. When it has been done. That you'll care for her. Make sure she's safe. Make sure she's healthy. Make sure she breathes until the time comes when she will fulfil her destiny."

Albus thought back to the child. Even as a baby, he could tell that she would grow up beautiful, just like her parents. And even in that split second when the blue eyes had met the gold, he had felt it. A stirring inside him. He knew that he should have felt uneasy at the black magic that was imprinted on such an innocent soul, but the eyes that had glanced back had been pure, as if the fire that lingered in the depths had melted away the darkness of her father's stain.

Dumbledore's eyes met the woman's. They were the same shade of gold as the child's - although, whilst hers were steeled and dull from years of suffering, the youngster's had been radiating joy and mischief.

"She's powerful," he said.

"I know," the woman gave a proud smile in the direction of the pram. It lit up her face; showing a window, a small remnant to the beauty she had once retained. "She and Harry are our last hopes." She swallowed. "They'll be good together. A force to be reckoned with."

Her eyes sought his once again. "Will you do it, Albus? Will you accept a mother's final plea for her daughter?"

There was a tense, scrutinising silence. Broken - when he nodded his head.

She let out a long sigh of relief. "Thank you." Rising, she gently picked up the infant and placed her in her arms with the most tender touch.

"I have to go," she said turning to leave. But at the last minute, her steps faltered, as though something prevented her from moving.

She glanced back. "She will hate me. Hate her parents when she knows." She sighed, looking down. "But what can I do? How can I make her understand?"

A frustration and hopelessness took over her. But then, her expression cleared up, a lightbulb turning on in that sharp mind. "Of course. How could I not have thought of this earlier?" She placed the wand to her temple and drew out a silvery strand, placing it lightly into a bottle that she delved out of her robe pocket. "Give her this, when she's old enough." With one hand held on the back of her neck, she unclasped a necklace, a glistening pendant hung off the chain. "My necklace, as well."

As she disapperated with the child, still holding the bottle of memories in one hand and the gold necklace in the other, Albus's heart contracted at the sight of her resolute expression. There was no sign of fear, no sign of regret, despite the pain and torture she was about to endure. It seemed that her last wish, had truly been for the safety of her daughter.

He wondered at what was to come in the future. Wondered at what would happen to the golden-eyed girl, with the selfless mother and the ruined father, who seemed still untouched by the evil that been unwillingly attached to her.


	2. Introducing Lia

Lia had been having a rather eventful month.

First, it had been that curious incident at the zoo, in which she had found out that by some strange miracle, she and Harry could somehow communicate with snakes. It was an incident that still left her dumbstruck with shock, pondering whether or not her life was simply an enormous dream. Or maybe she was going crazy. Madness was in her genes, after all. Petunia always said Lily was a crazy old bat.

She'd thought that her questionable sanity might have derived from the lack of interaction she had with anyone whose last name wasn't Potter or Dursley.

Her aunt and uncle's unwavering dislike of Harry and her, limited the amount of friends that she was able to make. For instance, the kids at school were typically split into two groups. They either ignored the Potter twins as if they were invisible, or they were awful bullies with harassing the two. She wasn't sure which was worse, for Lia hated getting the cold-shoulder.

She supposed that she couldn't really blame any of them.

Lia was a bit of a peculiar girl - and try as she might, she wasn't exactly the friendliest person in the world. As Piers put it, she had a strong case of 'resting bitch face'. She tried to be nice. She tried to be kind. But her mouth was always getting her into trouble, and sometimes she couldn't hold back the witty retorts.

She didn't think she was that bad.

For, she only hated a limited number of people, just four: Piers Polkiss, Dennis, Malcom and Gordon.

They all went to St. Gorgory's; a primary school that Lia attended with her cousin, Dudley. To be honest, she didn't even hate Dudley. Of course, he was a fat, ugly and spoiled brat. She had called him that once to his face. It had been immensely satisfying, even though she was locked in her laundry room turned bedroom for a week.

No … Dudley was a product of his parent's incessant pampering and reluctance to give the boy any form of actual discipline. God. He could really use a smack to the bum sometimes.

She didn't even hate her aunt and uncle.

Sure, they mistreated her. They mistreated Harry. But she had never felt truly threatened there. I mean, she supposed she could say that they were emotionally and verbally abused, but they had never raised a hand to them. They fed her. Clothed her. And well … that was about it.

Sometimes, she thought that they had to hate her, with the disdain that they treated her with, but then she'd catch her aunt looking at Harry with an odd sort of expression - jealously mixed in with some look of nostalgic reminiscing. Perhaps about their mother. She'd heard Petunia say once that Harry had Lily Evan's green eyes.

She hadn't meant it as a compliment, in her mind she and Harry were certainly not deserving of any sort of praise, but her brother had walked around with a ridiculous grin on his face for a whole month, and wouldn't stop checking himself out whenever he saw his reflection in the mirror.

It had been disturbing.

When she was younger, she had asked her aunt about who she looked more like: her father or her mother. To which Petunia had turned an unappealing shade of bleach white, seemed to shiver, even though it was hot out, and her eyes had taken on a faraway look, as if she were recollecting a memory.

"Neither," she'd responded curtly. "You look more like the devil, if you ask me. The devil. Not right you are … abnormal … just like your parents were." Her words had lacked their usual conviction and scorn though.

Sometimes she caught her aunt looking at her with a fearful expression. As if she were scared that Lia might blow up, and slaughter her whole family in the blast.

She didn't know why.

Lia was relatively nonviolent. Harry's temper was much worse.

But Petunia and Vernon had always been less intense with their bullying towards her than they were to Harry. They seemed unwilling to face what would happen if they pushed her too far. But really? How dumb and pathetic would they have to be, to be scared of a ten-year-old girl? She was wilted and scrawny from the lack of nutrients they gave her. She couldn't imagine being able to inflict any damage on them.

Well, that might have been a lie. There had been that time of course.

Remember those four people Lia hated?

Well, one day in March they'd all thought that it would be 'funny' if they went ahead and played a joke on her and Harry. A dangerous one. Where they'd gone and thrown rocks at her brother, until his skin blossomed with purple bruises. And the names they called him.

She didn't mind too much what they said to her. She was fine with it all. She knew she was smarter than them anyway, and destined for better things then that bag of plump cowardly tyrants - they'd were so dim that they'd probably end up begging on the streets.

But no one messed with Harry.

Her brother did annoy her. They had always been quite different. He was impulsive, she schemed; he was kind, she was venomous to those who irked her; he liked blue, she always loved silver; his eyes were bright green, hers were a gold, that turned molten when passionate; he had a lightning scar on his forehead, she had a curling mark in the shape of an 'S' on her upper arm; he hated reading, she adored losing herself in books.

He resembled their parents. She didn't.

It used to bother her, how different she looked from them. When she was younger, Petunia told her they'd picked her out of a garbage bin. She'd believed it for a week until she realised that her clean, snobbish aunt would never stick her hand somewhere so gross. She'd much rather leave a baby out on the streets to die.

If she was telling the truth, she'd never really felt close to her deceased mother and father. At least, not in the same way Harry had.

When they'd first seen a photo of them both, Harry had clung onto the picture, gazing at it with a tear-jerking amalgam of longing and love for hours. Through which, Lia had sat there, urging herself to feel something. Anything. Something other than the quiet detachment and small ounce of regret that she felt, knowing that those two happy looking people were now dead.

Maybe she was adopted?

But then, if she was, her aunt and uncle would never have taken her in. Not when they already talked so fervently about how they should have given Harry off to an orphanage.

It didn't matter anyway. They were siblings, through thick and thin. They both were ferociously protective of the ones they loved. And as Lia only truly loved Harry, and Harry only truly loved Lia, they were in it together.

It was because of that protective bond between them that Lia hated Piers, Dennis, Malcom and Gordon. They were always tormenting Harry, along with her wimp of a cousin, Dudley. Harry didn't really make it any better though. He was a stupid git too sometimes, with his silly conscience and even sillier sense of honour. What did he think he was doing, standing up to Dudley and Co. when they harassed the younger students, knowing perfectly well that he himself wasn't exactly the most popular kid in the school either?

That was another difference between the twins. Lia was a lot more self-preserving. It could be called selfish. But self-preserving sounded a lot better to her. Besides, she knew it was a cruel world out there. If you didn't stop to think about yourself first, you'd get taken advantage of - and she was no doorsill, waiting to get stepped all over. She wanted to survive, she wanted to be able to live happily.

Of course there was an exception.

An unfortunate exception. And that exception came in the form of her dumb reckless brother who was always getting himself in trouble. It was like he loved beaten up, that or he really liked it when Lia came and had to clean him up.

It was because of Lia's sisterly love for Harry that the animosity between the seven had been solidified on that day in March, when the rocks had been thrown. It had ended with Harry mysteriously appearing on the top of the roof; Dudley half sunk in mud, with a strange substance (Lia suspected it was dog poo) on his face; and the other four bullies screaming with broken bones.

It was only because Dudley was actually alright to Lia, on the days when they were at home in private, that he hadn't been injured too. One time, he had given her a cup of tea.

Lia too had screamed when she realised what had she'd done. She'd quivered in fear at the thought that she might be sent to juvie for physical assault.

She knew now that would never have happened though. Firstly, because there had been other witnesses, and no one had seen Lia even place a finger on those boys, not even when she was bellowing at them to stop. Secondly, because when her hands touched each the skin of the three shrieking children, their injuries had remarkably healed.

When the teacher finally came, there was not even a single swelling on the boys, and nothing to implicate Lia to the crime, except for the teary-eyed terrified youths that were bawling their eyes out. Deep down in her heart though, Lia knew that it had been her.

She had done it.

There was definitely a hidden side to her. A darker side. She tried to keep it suppressed. But sometimes it came lashing out. And people got hurt. It scared her. She always felt sorry after, but no matter how hard she tried, she could never remember what had happened, only a foggy blur of colour and sound, just a deep ceaseless abyss of anger and hatred that grew in heart, until it whipped out - like a cobra striking its victim.

But usually she was cheerful and optimistic. It was one of her most happy days during that eventful month, that she met Hagrid.

During the previous week, letters for her and Harry had been pouring through the house. So badly, and so incessantly, that it had incensed her uncle to the point of madness, so much so that he felt the need to relocate the family onto an awfully tiny shack on a rock in the middle of nowhere. Lia wasn't even exaggerating. It was surrounded by water, so when Petunia wanted to buy groceries, she'd had to row out for miles to the shore. It was sad to note that Lia would actually have preferred her leaky laundry room in Pivet Drive.

Hagrid had arrived on the night of her and Harry's eleventh birthdays. It had been a quiet affair.

They'd gotten up at midnight to draw themselves a pathetic looking birthday cake in the dirt, and they had exchanged the meagre gifts they could get their hands on. Harry had given her two novels. He must have noticed how she'd been eyeing them from the window display of the local bookstore. Lia gifted Harry with a shiny red bouncy ball. Her brother wasn't extremely sporty - he was too scrawny for things like rugby, and too unfit for soccer - but he did have amazing reflexes. She'd also given him a bunch of junk food from the local supermarkets. He needed to fatten up, he was too skinny as it was.

Lia had worried about how she would afford it at first.

Asking the Dursleys for money was an inconceivable idea. It was on one of those afternoons when she was contemplating this, wondering if she would actually be forced to give away her pride and dignity in order to beg for cash, that she saw it. She could have sworn that the money had been a rock at first, but in an instant, as she blinked, it had turned into a crisp twenty dollar note before her very eyes. It seemed too good to be true.

The best present though, had to have been when Hagrid burst in and told them that they were wizards.

Well, Harry was a wizard. She was obviously a witch. But a witch! Wasn't it amazing? And it explained quite a bit. Why she could do the things she did. Why she always felt different. Why she'd had a nagging suspicion in the back of her mind that she was missing something, something important ever since she was a young.

But magic! It seemed surreal.

How could magic possibly exist? And what was it Hagrid had said? In the mix of elation and excitement that had followed, she'd thought that he'd told her she'd be getting a wand. A wand! Just like the witches she'd read about in the story books! It felt like a dream. Like she was seeing the world, but through someone else's eyes. She closed her eyes and shook her head. How could it be happening to her? Nothing special ever happened. Not when you lived with aunts and uncles, as stringent and 'upstanding', as the Dursleys.

A witch! A witch! She really hoped that she wouldn't end up sprouting warts, or gaining an unattractively long hooked nose though. She wondered what she would be studying, the spells that she would learn. She made a mental note to start early, for one of her mottos was 'the early bird catches the worm'.

But then, would she have money for books? Well, she'd buy them anyway, even if she had to beg on the streets for it. She could busk, she supposed. Try some singing. Or she wouldn't really mind that much if she went and stole some notes off a wealthy fellow's wallet. She just couldn't tell Harry about it though, he was much too noble for something like petty theft.

What would the other children at Hogwarts be like? If they were all witches and wizards, people that had magic like her, people that were abnormal like her, perhaps she would finally be able to make some friends, that weren't pitifully her own brother.

She could barely sleep at night, the thoughts jumbling in her mind, whilst she waited in anticipation for the day when she would first step foot into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	3. Diagon Alley

"Harry come, come look at this!" Lia called, her eyes fixated upon what looked to be a thread of white, cloudy smoke. It was trapped inside a glass container, and every now and then, there would be a bang as it knocked onto the glass, most likely in an attempt to escape. The label on the side read 'Hinkypink' in vivd blue letters.

It had been a marvellous day. Sunlight fell upon her face in warm shimmery rays, and Lia thought her head was going to spontaneously combust from all the unbelievable things she'd encountered throughout her stroll down Diagon Alley.

For some reason unknown to her, Harry was a very famous figure around these parts. It had irritated her a bit at first, how the other witches and wizards were almost fighting for the privilege to shake Harry's hand, pat him on the back, or even just exchange pleasantries - all the while ignoring her. She supposed she was a touch jealous, but she reminded herself that Harry deserved the attention - after he survived that gods awful St. Gordons' School for Prats.

Although, she was definitely not jealous when he shook hands with the stuttering Professor Quirrell. Her hair had stood up in discomfort - he had been such an uncomfortably awkward and strange man.

Another strange thing that Lia could not make sense of was why everyone looked shocked when they were informed of her existence.

"Another Potter? Why, I've never heard of this before!" A witch had exclaimed. "Who could have thought that Lily had twins?" Her expression was almost frustrated.

Lia stayed silent. What was she supposed to reply to that? Sorry, you didn't know I was alive, Mrs. It's too bad mum died before she could formally introduce us. Or maybe, she could tell her that Lily picked a baby up out of the garbage and decided to keep her. The woman would surely appreciate that.

After a slightly awkward silence the witch had said, "Ah…well…it's an honour to meet you sweetheart, anyhow."

"C'mon." Hagrid spoke as he caught up to Harry and Lia, who were now both ogling the magical creatures that moved around in the cages.

"Plenty o' that to see at Hogwarts. You two best be gettin' your robes now". He pointed them towards a shop that had a shiny sign saying 'Madam Makin's Robes for All Occasions'. "Would ya' mind if I dash'd off ta' the Leaky Cauldron for a bit? Needa' pick somethin' up."

"No worries at all," Lia said, smiling up at Hagrid. The man had been affectionate to them, and despite his great stature, he did not appear intimidating to her. He reminded her slightly of one of those giant teddy bears she had once seen on a shop window, when she was accompanying the Dursleys whilst they did their Christmas shopping.

The sign on the shop read 'Madam Malkin's' in ornate, cursive letter, and the brick walls were painted with vibrant purple. Inside, they met a boy – a boy with shiny white-blond hair and very pale skin, and features so sharp, Lia thought she'd be cut if she got too close.

Lia deciphered that he must have been a wizard too, if he was here in this shop, and he appeared to be around their age too. She realised with a jolt that he might have been going to Hogwarts as well, for there couldn't be many wizarding schools in this part of England, right?

She was just walking over to introduce herself, until right in line with her thoughts, the boy turned around and spotted Harry.

"Hello," he said, "Hogwarts, too?"

Harry nodded, the movement sparking the other boy into a lengthy ramble about brooms, and sorting, and houses. She found that she was unable to understand his words, and growing increasingly bored, she chose to instead peek coyly at him.

He stunk of wealth. She could feel it radiating off him in his stance, his expression, the manner in which he spoke – a spoiled, lofty tone hung about him. Lia looked at the long, black, tailor-made clothes he was wearing. They sure did look nice. She was a touch envious. Petunia usually only gave her the disgustingly frilly, moth-eaten clothes that she used to wear as a child.

"I say, look at that man!" the boy exclaimed all of a sudden, pointing outside the window.

Lia spun around and saw Hagrid. She couldn't help grinning. The small package he was trying to hold delicately in his hands made him seem comparatively bigger, with a sort of cute clumsy aura. Like an oversized dog.

"Oh, that's Hagrid," she said.

The boy's eyes quickly skimmed over her, before resting on her own, so that the grey irises met the gold. He cocked his head slightly, as if acknowledging her for the first time.

There was a stillness, until he finally said, "I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry replied. Lia could see his eyes grow colder. "I think he's brilliant."

She nodded her head in support. Who did this boy think he was, going around being so rude like that, when he didn't appear to have even spoken to Hagrid? Besides, servant? What was this? The middle ages?

The blonde boy eyed her. "Why is he accompanying you? Where are your parents?"

"Well that's none of your beeswax," Lia said, a bit surprised at being asked such a private question by a stranger. "Didn't your parents teach you not to be so nosy?"

"Are they wizards?"

"Do I know you?" Then she smirked, as she felt a spark of mischief. She let her eyes widen in horror. "Quick!" she yelled. "Check your face!"

The boy ran his hands over his skin, probably fearing that he'd just caught some infection or sprouted a wart. As if that would even make him any uglier.

"I think I just found your nose in my business." Lia bought her hand to her forehand and pretended to faint in terror.

Harry's pupils dilated a fraction at her theatrics. "Lia," he whispered, a little nervous, "Be nice."

The boy looked both shocked and offended. "…Well. Are they?"

"Yes," Lia said curtly. "But they're dead".

He seemed momentarily appeased, (really who was appeased that someone's parents were dead?) but he shot a glare at her as he said a curt and false, "I'm sorry".

Lia shot an equally icy stare back at the boy. Two-facedness was not a quality she personally admired.

"Why does it matter if they were wizards or not?" she said. "We're all going to Hogwarts, aren't we? What, don't tell me you're writing a biography about Harry or something?"

Blondie snorted. "You're an idiot. You must really know nothing about the wizarding world huh?" He appeared incredulous.

"Oi. Watch who you're calling an idiot, you stupid prat," Lia said. She felt her fist shake.

But, no. It was the start of her wizarding journey, and she didn't want to get in trouble already. Also, she thought that it would be wise if she learnt some more spells, before she started picking fights. She wouldn't like it much if she sprouted a tail like Dudley had that night with Hagrid.

"You'll find that some blood is better than others," the boy launched into a long rant about 'blood' and 'purity'. He honestly sounded like a vampire, the way he spoke about it. Lia thought that if his blood was really as 'fine' as he claimed, he should just get ahead with it and drink it already - he seemed to be enough of a narcissist and a weirdo to do something like that.

She passed a shared look with Harry, and he nodded. "Let's go, Lia".

They picked up their fresh new robes and walked out of the store, leaving the blond boy inside still mid-talk.

Little did she know, that the boy stared after them, long after she had already left, his gaze a mix of disbelief, resentment and grudging curiosity.

Who were these people, who didn't seem to understand anything? They had said that their parents were wizards, so they couldn't be muggle born. But then again, they could be lying. Who didn't understand that they should treat him, a Malfoy, with respect? Who in the world dared to just leave when he was speaking? And who was that girl, the one that reminded him of a cobra when she spoke? Draco didn't like her already.

Even his mother commented on him being absent-minded, as she bought him his books. He couldn't help it. He had worked himself up into an angry frenzy, thinking about the strange boy and the girl."Harry come, come look at this!" Lia called, her eyes fixated upon what looked to be a thread of white, cloudy smoke. It was trapped inside a glass container, and every now and then, there would be a bang as it knocked onto the glass, most likely in an attempt to escape. The label on the side read 'Hinkypink' in vivd blue letters.

It had been a marvellous day. Sunlight fell upon her face in warm shimmery rays, and Lia thought her head was going to spontaneously combust from all the unbelievable things she'd encountered throughout her stroll down Diagon Alley.

For some reason unknown to her, Harry was a very famous figure around these parts. It had irritated her a bit at first, how the other witches and wizards were almost fighting for the privilege to shake Harry's hand, pat him on the back, or even just exchange pleasantries - all the while ignoring her. She supposed she was a touch jealous, but she reminded herself that Harry deserved the attention - after he survived that gods awful St. Gordons' School for Prats.

Although, she was definitely not jealous when he shook hands with the stuttering Professor Quirrell. Her hair had stood up in discomfort - he had been such an uncomfortably awkward and strange man.

Another strange thing that Lia could not make sense of was why everyone looked shocked when they were informed of her existence.

"Another Potter? Why, I've never heard of this before!" A witch had exclaimed. "Who could have thought that Lily had twins?" Her expression was almost frustrated.

Lia stayed silent. What was she supposed to reply to that? Sorry, you didn't know I was alive, Mrs. It's too bad mum died before she could formally introduce us. Or maybe, she could tell her that Lily picked a baby up out of the garbage and decided to keep her. The woman would surely appreciate that.

After a slightly awkward silence the witch had said, "Ah…well…it's an honour to meet you sweetheart, anyhow."

"C'mon." Hagrid spoke as he caught up to Harry and Lia, who were now both ogling the magical creatures that moved around in the cages.

"Plenty o' that to see at Hogwarts. You two best be gettin' your robes now". He pointed them towards a shop that had a shiny sign saying 'Madam Makin's Robes for All Occasions'. "Would ya' mind if I dash'd off ta' the Leaky Cauldron for a bit? Needa' pick somethin' up."

"No worries at all," Lia said, smiling up at Hagrid. The man had been affectionate to them, and despite his great stature, he did not appear intimidating to her. He reminded her slightly of one of those giant teddy bears she had once seen on a shop window, when she was accompanying the Dursleys whilst they did their Christmas shopping.

The sign on the shop read 'Madam Malkin's' in ornate, cursive letter, and the brick walls were painted with vibrant purple. Inside, they met a boy – a boy with shiny white-blond hair and very pale skin, and features so sharp, Lia thought she'd be cut if she got too close.

Lia deciphered that he must have been a wizard too, if he was here in this shop, and he appeared to be around their age too. She realised with a jolt that he might have been going to Hogwarts as well, for there couldn't be many wizarding schools in this part of England, right?

She was just walking over to introduce herself, until right in line with her thoughts, the boy turned around and spotted Harry.

"Hello," he said, "Hogwarts, too?"

Harry nodded, the movement sparking the other boy into a lengthy ramble about brooms, and sorting, and houses. She found that she was unable to understand his words, and growing increasingly bored, she chose to instead peek coyly at him.

He stunk of wealth. She could feel it radiating off him in his stance, his expression, the manner in which he spoke – a spoiled, lofty tone hung about him. Lia looked at the long, black, tailor-made clothes he was wearing. They sure did look nice. She was a touch envious. Petunia usually only gave her the disgustingly frilly, moth-eaten clothes that she used to wear as a child.

"I say, look at that man!" the boy exclaimed all of a sudden, pointing outside the window.

Lia spun around and saw Hagrid. She couldn't help grinning. The small package he was trying to hold delicately in his hands made him seem comparatively bigger, with a sort of cute clumsy aura. Like an oversized dog.

"Oh, that's Hagrid," she said.

The boy's eyes quickly skimmed over her, before resting on her own, so that the grey irises met the gold. He cocked his head slightly, as if acknowledging her for the first time.

There was a stillness, until he finally said, "I've heard of him. He's sort of a servant, isn't he?"

"He's the gamekeeper," Harry replied. Lia could see his eyes grow colder. "I think he's brilliant."

She nodded her head in support. Who did this boy think he was, going around being so rude like that, when he didn't appear to have even spoken to Hagrid? Besides, servant? What was this? The middle ages?

The blonde boy eyed her. "Why is he accompanying you? Where are your parents?"

"Well that's none of your beeswax," Lia said, a bit surprised at being asked such a private question by a stranger. "Didn't your parents teach you not to be so nosy?"

"Are they wizards?"

"Do I know you?" Then she smirked, as she felt a spark of mischief. She let her eyes widen in horror. "Quick!" she yelled. "Check your face!"

The boy ran his hands over his skin, probably fearing that he'd just caught some infection or sprouted a wart. As if that would even make him any uglier.

"I think I just found your nose in my business." Lia bought her hand to her forehand and pretended to faint in terror.

Harry's pupils dilated a fraction at her theatrics. "Lia," he whispered, a little nervous, "Be nice."

The boy looked both shocked and offended. "…Well. Are they?"

"Yes," Lia said curtly. "But they're dead".

He seemed momentarily appeased, (really who was appeased that someone's parents were dead?) but he shot a glare at her as he said a curt and false, "I'm sorry".

Lia shot an equally icy stare back at the boy. Two-facedness was not a quality she personally admired.

"Why does it matter if they were wizards or not?" she said. "We're all going to Hogwarts, aren't we? What, don't tell me you're writing a biography about Harry or something?"

Blondie snorted. "You're an idiot. You must really know nothing about the wizarding world huh?" He appeared incredulous.

"Oi. Watch who you're calling an idiot, you stupid prat," Lia said. She felt her fist shake.

But, no. It was the start of her wizarding journey, and she didn't want to get in trouble already. Also, she thought that it would be wise if she learnt some more spells, before she started picking fights. She wouldn't like it much if she sprouted a tail like Dudley had that night with Hagrid.

"You'll find that some blood is better than others," the boy launched into a long rant about 'blood' and 'purity'. He honestly sounded like a vampire, the way he spoke about it. Lia thought that if his blood was really as 'fine' as he claimed, he should just get ahead with it and drink it already - he seemed to be enough of a narcissist and a weirdo to do something like that.

She passed a shared look with Harry, and he nodded. "Let's go, Lia".

They picked up their fresh new robes and walked out of the store, leaving the blond boy inside still mid-talk.

Little did she know, that the boy stared after them, long after she had already left, his gaze a mix of disbelief, resentment and grudging curiosity.

Who were these people, who didn't seem to understand anything? They had said that their parents were wizards, so they couldn't be muggle born. But then again, they could be lying. Who didn't understand that they should treat him, a Malfoy, with respect? Who in the world dared to just leave when he was speaking? And who was that girl, the one that reminded him of a cobra when she spoke? Draco didn't like her already.

Even his mother commented on him being absent-minded, as she bought him his books. He couldn't help it. He had worked himself up into an angry frenzy, thinking about the strange boy and the girl.


End file.
